Time

I have a hard time with time. Really hard. Both in determining how much time has past since I began a task and in never having enough time to prepare for anything. Particularly when trying to prepare for social things. I also have a really, really hard time dealing with people being late.

If we plan to go somewhere and I say we need to leave at noon, I usually start panicking around 10:30am. Are you awake? Have you eaten? Will you be ready in time? By 11, I've usually sent out at least one 'checking in' text message, and if I didn't get a response, you can bet your bungalow I've called at least once. I begin nervous pacing around 11:30 and if you're not here by fifteen minutes past the scheduled leave-by time you can bet I'm close to tears.

It's always been this way. I may not tell you so, and I sure as hell won't let you know anything was amiss if and when you do show up, but it makes me crazy. Panic attack, the world is ending crazy.

Now, I am never, ever on time. It rarely happens. But I know this about me. I know leaving my house to go somewhere with other people, is difficult. It takes me a lot of time to be able to prepare myself for all of the possible eventualities and to be ready enough to leave the house. This is why I never commit to being anywhere at any particular time. I say, oh, I'll be sure to come, but I'm not sure when. Or, something like, 'I'll try to leave my house around 7ish'.

If I do agree to a concrete time, you can bet I'll be early. Really early. Possibly circling the neighborhood for an hour and a half, downing Starbucks, hoping you don't notice I've been pacing around for hours, kind of early.

It's just the way I work. I have a hard time with things. Time is one of them. People is another. When you combine the two, chaos ensues.

But beyond all of that, unless your name is Dear Friend M. Lucy B. you are absolutely NOT ever allowed to tell me that you are coming to visit last minute. (Last minute, being defined as anything less than a full months notice.)

And you most certainly are not allowed to call to say you'll be here in two-ish weeks (and only 4 days after I get back from my vacation!), you'll only be here during the work week, and oh, by the way is it okay if your kids stay here? And then expect me to be flexible and diplomatic about it.

RUDE.

I don't care who you are, or who you're related to, how grown up your kids are, or how much you think I should love you. I can assure you I don't care, and I most certainly don't love you that much.

But hey, thanks for the nervous breakdown. It's cool. Really.

*facepalm*